the club thinks juicy boys highschool ‘sweetheart’ isn’t real for way too long (pt .2)
Juice has a lot of tattoos. The big tribal prints on his head make it obvious. The number has grown over his time in the club - empty arms are now half-sleeves, and his muscled back is blanketed with a reaper. Before he began prospecting, the only ink he had was already faded in color and hidden away on his chest.
Right next to his heart, sits two tiny outlines of a sun and a moon. The first time it was visible, the guys tore him apart for it.
It’s a hot summer day, hotter than California already normally is, and all that rests over his torso is a white, ribbed tank top. He’s working his ass off in the garage when Chibs calls him in for something, and he happens to stand next to Tiggy at the bar. The older man is level with his chest from his spot in the barstool, and sticks his finger at the outlines hard enough to shove him back just a little.
“Whatcha got that little prissy thing for?” They’re all glancing at him with snickers and scoffs, but he just smiles away with his little bashful grin, rubbing a hand over his shaved mohawk.
“It’s for my girl.” He blushes.
“Oh, yeah? She your sunshine, Juicy-boy?”
“Nah,” He stares down at it along with the rest of them. “She’s my moon.” Yeah, he got tore apart for that, too.
After a while, they stop believing he’s still got this girlfriend. He talks about her a lot, sure, but they’ve never seen the woman outside of a couple old polaroids he carries around. (Happy has, actually, he just doesn’t care enough to use the energy it would take to tell anyone. She’s done all of his recent tattoos.)
Then they find out about the OCD, and it’s even harder for them to believe this hot chick he’s dedicated his whole life to, and never touched a kutte chaser for, has stuck with nerdy, silly ol’ Juice.
The first time the club sees her in person is completely coincidental. They’re on the start of a quick run, haven’t even left Charming yet when the whole group is stopped at a red light. The second it turns green, a tiny, beat-up car speeds up next to the them - and there she is.
Hanging out of the passenger seat window, waving and screaming his name with a huge grin, is the pretty girl in Juice’s pictures. Compared to the frayed picture booth strip he keeps on his bike, she looks a little older. They both do.
There’s delicate tattoo ink framing one side of her jaw and cheekbone, and a huge piece trickling down the other side of her neck, under her shirt.
He waves back, smiling ear to ear, and pretends to catch the kiss she blows at him.
When they finally stop, the other men shove him around and start asking too many questions. Most importantly, though, the man who was driving her gets brought up.
“Oh, I wasn’t even looking. Was it a huge, bald dude with a really long beard and a bunch of tattoos?” He gets a couple nods. “Yeah, that’s her boss. Just finished her apprenticeship!”
They don’t get to actually interact with her for a couple more months. She shows up to a club party pretty late (Juice convinced her to swing over for a couple drinks before he took her home).
She’s a lot different than she was in the car, pearly whites on display and sending Juice off with kisses. Sure, she was all smiles like that with him at her side for most of the night, but when he disappears down the hall to take a piss, and is immediately jumped with questions by half the crew, she ain’t so happy.
Her smile quickly falls into a flat line, and she answers most of their questions by muttering out as little words as possible. Until Bobby hits a sensitive spot.
“What’d you think the first time he came home with his stupid ass head tattoos? He even give you the chance to talk him out of that shit?”
Her head whips over to him, and her face scrunches with a scowl. Juice picks the perfect time to waltz back, and takes his place standing next to her stool with an arm lazily thrown over her shoulder.
“What’s goin’ on?” Juice looks over at her, but she’s still got that nasty look on her face angled at Bobby. To let him know she isn’t ignoring him, a manicured hand moves to brush over the back of his mohawk. There’s a sun on the back of her hand.
“I’ll have you know that’s my hard fuckin’ work, right there.” Her other hand grabs the almost empty glass off of the counter, and she gulps down the rest of the liquid. There’s a moon on the back of that one.
“Take me home, J?” Her hand leaves his head, falling into his instead. She climbs down from the stool, already starting to make an exit before he responds.
“Yeah, ‘course, baby!” He swings their hands while he opens the passenger door for her.
Warnings ⚠️: Non-con drugging, kidnapping, forced captivity, Canon typical violence, trauma/PTSD, drug withdrawal, anxiety & panic attacks, he's a yearner, slowburn, eventual smut, x reader.
COME DOWN
When SAMCRO storms a stash house, they expect bullets, crank, and the usual scum.
They don’t expect her—a terrified girl curled on a filthy mattress, eyes blown wide, barely conscious. The unwilling lab rat for the latest batch of crank.
She wasn’t supposed to be there. She knew nothing about the club, the wars, or the blood-soaked rules of this town. Now she’s waking up with no memory of who she is or of the worst months of her life… and locked down in the clubhouse for her own “protection.”
SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k
Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:
Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.
Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.
For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.
As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.
The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.
"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."
Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"
"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."
You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."
Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.
"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.
"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."
"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."
Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.
"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.
"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."
Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?
"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.
The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.
It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.
"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."
Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.
Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.
"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.
For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.
Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.
"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.
But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.
"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."
"That's not your concern."
Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."
Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.
Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.
The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.
With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.
"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"
There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.
"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."
Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.
"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.
"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."
Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"
"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."
"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.
He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.
"What do I do now, Juice?"
"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.
You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."
A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.
"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"
"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.
"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."
"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.
"I guess the first step is not going back to him."
As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.
"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.
Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.
"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"
"I'd love to," you interrupt him.
For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."
You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.
"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.
Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"
"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"
He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."
"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"
The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?
"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.
"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."
"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."
Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.
A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.
You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.
"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.
"As long as you need, baby."
Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.
*taps microphone* juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚 juice ortiz 💚💚💚
Finally finished I have been working on this on and off for a few days as work has been really busy. I hope you guys enjoy it I am not sure what topic the next group drabble will be so let me know what you guys wanna see next ♥︎
SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld
♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎
SoA Masterlist 🌸 Main Masterlist
Chibs
Chibs looked across at his girlfriend as she laughed loudly at something one of club hangarounds had said. It was easy to see that she was thoroughly drunk, as she stumbled about and slurred her words. He watched her with a mixture of amusement and affection, shaking his head at how adorable she was when she got wasted.
As the night progressed, Chibs kept a watchful eye on her, making sure she didn't do anything stupid or get into any trouble. He even stepped in when some drunk guy tried to flirt with her.
By the time the club party came to an end, his girlfriend was stumbling around bumping into things. Chibs chuckled and steadied her, slinging her arm around his shoulders to support her.
"Come on, lass, you're wasted," he said, leading her towards the exit. She giggled and leaned heavily against him, her legs apparently made of jelly.
"I'm not drunk," she protested, slurring her words. "I'm just... a little impaired."
"Uh-huh, sure you are," Chibs said, humoring her. "Just hold on tight, okay?"
He guided her to the parking lot where his bike was parked. He helped her on to the back seat, making sure she was sitting securely. As he straddled the bike, she wrapped her arms drunkenly around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.
"Mmm, you smell good," she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his neck. "Like... leather and... and... danger."
Chibs chuckled and shook his head, starting up the engine. "And you smell like beer and trouble, lass."
The ride back to her house was slow and careful. Chibs kept a steady pace, mindful of the inebriated passenger clinging to him like a koala. She kept giggling and commenting on how fun it was to be on the motorcycle, her words a slightly slurred mess.
When they finally arrived at her house, Chibs dismounted and helped her off the bike. She stumbled a bit, but he caught her, holding her against his chest.
"We're here, love," Chibs said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You made it in one piece."
She looked up at him with glassy eyes, her face flushed from the alcohol and the wind. "I had the best night ever," she declared, grinning goofily.
He chuckled and shook his head again. "I'm glad you had fun, but you're going to have a hell of a headache in the morning."
He led her up to her porch, his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She leaned on him heavily, her steps uneven.
Once they got to her front door, he pulled her keys from her purse and slowly unlocked the door. He steered her inside, flicking on the lights as they entered the quiet house.
He helped her to the couch and sat her down. She immediately flopped onto the cushions, a contented sigh escaping her lips.
Chibs looked down at her, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face. "Stay there, okay? I'm gonna get you some water."
He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her on the couch. He rummaged through the fridge, finding a bottle of water. When he returned to the living room, she was already fast asleep, her body sprawled across the cushions.
Chibs couldn't help but smile at the sight of her asleep. He knelt down next to the couch, taking a moment to study her face. She looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the wild laughter and stumbling from earlier.
He carefully placed the water bottle on the table, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.
He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, his gaze never leaving her. He knew he should probably leave her to sleep off the alcohol, but part of him didn't want to go. He liked being near her like this, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.
After a few moments, he let out a soft sigh. Reluctantly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, love," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.
He stood up, giving her one last glance before reluctantly turning away. He switched off the lights as he left, shutting the front door behind him quietly.
Happy
Happy sat on the couch in his dimly lit apartment, holding a glass of whiskey, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend who was currently stumbling around, giggling to herself. She was clearly drunk, and had been for a while.
"Hey there, princess," he called out, setting his glass down on the table. "You need to sit down and rest before you fall down."
His girlfriend looked at him, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, a wide smile spreading across her face. "I'm fiiiine," she slurred, taking an exaggerated step forward, nearly tripping over her own feet. "I can totally walk."
Happy chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I've seen more coordination from a newborn deer," he said, standing up to approach her. "Come on, sit down before you hurt yourself."
His girlfriend pouted but didn't protest as he gently took her by the elbow and led her to the couch. She flopped down onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, looking up at him with a grin that was equal parts cute and ridiculous. "You worry too much," she said, waving a hand dismissively.
Happy sat down next to her, shaking his head again with a slight smile. "Maybe," he admitted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. "But someone's got to keep an eye on you when you get like this."
His girlfriend snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest and letting out a content sigh. "You're so comfy," she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. "Like a big ol' teddy bear."
Happy chuckled again, gently running his fingers through her hair. "That's me," he said, his tone both dry and affectionate. "Big Bad Biker Teddy Bear."
His girlfriend giggled, nuzzling her face against his chest. "Mmm, I love your chest," she said, her hand slowly snaking down to rest just above his belt buckle. "It's so... hard and muscley."
Happy raised an eyebrow, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dropping a note lower. He gently took her hand in his, preventing her from moving it any lower. "You're very handsy when you're drunk."
His girlfriend pouted again, trying to pull her hand free, but Happy held it fast. "I'm always handsy with you," she whined, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "Don't you like it when I touch you?"
Happy's grip on her hand tightened just a bit, enjoying the game. "I never said I didn't like it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But you seem a bit too wasted to be playing those kinds of games right now."
His girlfriend huffed, looking for all the world like a petulant child being denied a treat. "I'm not that drunk," she protested, wriggling a bit in his lap.
"look I'll prove it" she said holding a hand up going to touch her nose with her pointer finger but misses completely.
Happy couldn't help but laugh at her failed attempt. "Yeah, you're definitely wasted," he said, amused. "If you can't even touch your own nose without missing, I think it's safe to say you're done for the night."
His girlfriend stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture made even cuter by her inebriated state. "You're no fun," she muttered, resting her head back against his chest. "You never let me have any fun."
Happy chuckled again, resuming his stroking of her hair. "Trust me, princess," he said, his voice dropping back to a deeper, huskier tone, "We can have plenty of fun when you're sober. And you'll remember it the next morning."
His girlfriend nuzzled against his chest again, her eyelids drooping as the alcohol began to pull her towards sleep. "Promise?" she mumbled, her hand once again trying to snake back towards his lap.
Happy gently moved her hand away again, though he couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "I promise," he said, his voice soft. "You get some rest, and we'll pick this up in the morning when you're not seeing double."
Jax
Jax glanced over at his girlfriend, who was slumped against his side, her eyes half-lidded and a goofy smile on her lips. She'd had a few too many drinks and was now completely wrecked. He couldn't help but chuckle seeing her like this.
"All right, come here," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. He could feel her body sway slightly, her head lolling against his shoulder.
"Yurrrr so strong," she slurred, giggling.Jax rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a small grin.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm a big, strong man," he teased, gently patting her on the head. "Let's get you to bed, yeah? You're completely hammered."
He carefully helped her to her feet, keeping a tight grip on her as she wobbled. "Come on, babe. You're not walking anywhere like this." He guided her towards his dorm, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.
Once they were in the room, he sat her down on the edge of the bed with a soft thump, then knelt down in front of her to take off her shoes. "You're a real light-weight, you know that?" he teased as he slid them off her feet, setting them aside.
"Am NOT," she tried to protest, but the words didn't quite come out right. She wobbled again, nearly toppling forward before Jax caught her.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there. Don't go falling over now." He gently pushed her down onto the bed, helping her get comfortable amongst the pillows and blankets. He sat down on the bed next to her, watching her with a mixture of fondness and amusement.
She let out a contented sigh as she settled, her eyes fluttering closed. She mumbled something incoherent, and Jax couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement. He leaned down, brushing the hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, babe."
He sat there for a moment, listening to the sound of her soft, even breaths as she started to drift off. He knew she'd be out for the night, and he'd have to look after her in the morning when she woke up with a killer hangover. But for now, she was safe and sound in his bed, and that was all that mattered.
Opie
Opie returns home late one night after a long day to find his girlfriend already on the couch in the house, a bottle of beer in her hand and a flush to her cheeks. He can already assume she is drunk and he has to bite back a smirk, knowing the kind of trouble you get into when she is inebriated.
As soon as she hears him enter, she jumps to her feet, almost toppling over, but just about saving herself by grabbing the back of the couch. “O-Opie,” she stutters, a goofy smile on her face. “You're home.”
“Yeah, I’m home,” he replies, unable to hide the amusement in his voice as he takes in the state of you. “And you’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”
"No....I have only had to beers" she whined frowning at the 2 bottles on the table.
Opie chuckles when he spots the bottles realizing she found the super stong home brew he got as a gift from Bobby. “Those ain't beer, baby,” he says, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “That's Bobby's 'special brew'. It would get most people drunk within minutes. How are you feeling?”
"I'm totally fine," she mumbles, her words slurred as she tries to lean against the couch but misses and almost falls to the ground if it wasn't for Opie's lightening reflexes. He quickly catches her before she hits the floor and pulls her body up against his chest.
"Yeah, you're definitely not fine," he murmurs, holding her close to him. He can't help but feel amused by how adorable she is when she's drunk. "You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning, baby."
She groans and buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I feel funny,” she mumbled. “And spinny.”
Opie laughs softly and holds her closer against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he tries to steady her. “That’s because you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he says gently, running his hand up and down her back. “Just lean against me, okay?”
She nods and sighs contently as she leans against him more, burying her face in his chest once again. “You smell good, Opie,” she mumbles, her words still slurred and her breath warm against his chest.
He chuckles softly at her drunken compliment and tightens his arms around her, holding her even closer against him. “And you smell like a distillery,” he teases, his voice filled with affection.
She groans again and pouts up at him, her lips in a cute little frown. “You’re mean,” she sulks, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “You’re not supposed to be mean to me when I’m drunk, you’re supposed to be nice and tell me I’m pretty and buy me chicken nuggets.”
Opie grins, amused by her drunken requests. "You want chicken nuggets?" he teases, lifting an eyebrow. "At this hour?"
She nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the spot in her excitement. "Yes! I'm starving," she whines, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Opie, I want chicken nuggets. Please please please."
He laughs, unable to resist her adorable drunken plea. "Alright, alright," he says, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'll get your chicken nuggets, baby. But you have to promise me one thing."
She nods eagerly, her focus solely on the promise of food. "Anything," she slurs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
He grins down at her, amused by her eagerness. "You gotta promise not to throw up on me, okay?" he teases, gently poking her on the nose with his index finger.
Juice
Juice leans against the doorframe, watching his girlfriend stumble around, completely intoxicated. She's laughing and swaying attempting to dance, clearly not in full control of her actions.
"How much did you drink, baby?" he asks, stepping closer.
"Dunno," she slurs, grinning sloppily at him. "A lot."
Juice chuckles, shaking his head.He moves in and scoops her up, pulling her into his arms with ease. She's lightweight to him, and he easily supports her against his chest.
"Let's get you to bed, you're wasted." he says, carrying her towards the bedroom.She giggles uncontrollably, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he carries her. She's making these little hiccup sounds that would be cute if not for the fact that they're coming from a drunk woman.
Juice sets her down on the bed, carefully arranging her head on a pillow. She's still giggling and murmuring incoherent words, clearly oblivious to the world around her.
"You're a mess," he says, rolling his eyes but there's a hint of fondness in his voice. He pulls off her shoes and lays a blanket over her.
She's attempting to say something but it's coming out as garbled nonsense. He leans closer to try and make out her words but they're not making any sense.
"Shhh," he soothes, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Just sleep it off."
He settles down on the edge of the bed, watching her as she fidgets and mutters to herself, her eyes fluttering shut and then opening again. She keeps reaching out for him, her hand flailing in the air as if trying to grab hold of something.
He can't help but chuckle at her antics, despite the situation. He reaches out and takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze to reassure her.
She mumbles something that sounds like his name, her fingers wrapping around his.
"Yeah, it's me," he replies, his voice soft. He continues sitting there, holding her hand and stroking her hair until her breathing becomes steady, signalling she's fallen asleep.
He sits there for a few more minutes, quietly watching her. She looks so peaceful now that she's asleep, a complete contrast to the stumbling mess she was just a while ago.
Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he gets up and turns off the bedroom light, leaving the door slightly ajar so he can hear her if she needs him.
He goes to the kitchen filling a bottle with water and ice taking it back into the bedroom leaving it by her side going into the bathroom to find some painkillers.
He comes back into the room, carrying a couple of painkillers. He sets them down on the bedside table, making sure they're within reach for when she wakes up.
He looks down at her sleeping form, contemplating waking her up to give her the medicine, but decides against it. She's in deep sleep, and he doesn't want to disturb her. Instead, he pulls up a chair and sits down to keep an eye on her, just in case she wakes up and needs anything.
Herman
Kozik and his girlfriend had spent the evening at a party hosted by the club. As the night went on, his girlfriend had indulged in a few too many drinks, while he had remained relatively sober.
As the party began to wind down, Kozik noticed that his girlfriend had become quite drunk. She was stumbling around, struggling to speak clearly, and seemed on the verge of passing out.
Seeing her in this state, Kozik knew he couldn't leave her on her own. He made his way over to her, gently placing his arm around her to help her stand steady.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, his voice soft and caring. "I think it's time to get you home."
His girlfriend protested, insisting that she was fine and wanted to stay at the party longer. But Kozik gently but firmly shook his head.
"No, babe," he said, guiding her towards the door. "You've had a little too much to drink. We need to get you home and into bed."
His girlfriend groaned, but she was too drunk to put up much of a fight. Kozik led her out of the party and helped her into the passenger seat of her car.
As he buckled her seatbelt, he could see that she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Just hang in there," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We're almost home."
The drive was quiet, with his girlfriend dozing off in the passenger seat. Kozik kept his eyes focused on the road, his hand occasionally reaching over to pat her leg reassuringly.
When they finally arrived at her house, he helped her out of the car and guided her up the driveway. She stumbled on the way to the front door, but he was there to catch her, holding her steady against him.
Inside, Kozik helped his girlfriend into bed, pulling the blankets up around her and making sure she was comfortable. She mumbled something about wanting to stay awake and chat, but her eyes were already shutting.
Kozik chuckled softly, sitting down beside her on the bed. He brushed the hair back from her face and tucked the covers in around her.
"It's time to sleep," he said gently. "You'll feel better in the morning. I'll be right here."
His girlfriend nodded sleepily, her eyes closed now. Kozik stayed by her side, watching her breathing even out as she fell asleep. He leaned back against the headboard, content to keep watch over her until morning.
As the night went on, Kozik found his mind drifting. He thought about the party they had just left, his brothers back at the club, and the life they lived. But throughout it all, his thoughts kept returning to the woman asleep beside him.
He knew he was lucky to have her. She was feisty, spirited and beautiful. And she was all his.
Tig
Tig was watching his girlfriend's every movement from a safe distance. Not because he was worried, but because watching his girlfriend when slightly hammered was always fun. She always let her inner self shine when she's had a few drinks. She's not as shy and reserved when she's like that.
Right now she was giggling up a storm with some of the guys from the club. Her cheeks were a rosy shade and her eyes were bright. A little smile played on his lips as he took another long sip from his beer.
He chuckled to himself, watching as his girlfriend stumbled on her own two feet. She reached out and grabbed onto the nearest person to steady herself, who just so happened to not be him. His smile disappeared into a slight frown, and he took a few steps closer.
He quickly intervened and wrapped an arm around her, steadying her. He kept a tight grip, not too tight but tight enough to keep her from toppling over. "You okay there, sweetheart?" Tig asked, his voice holding a touch of amusement.
She looked up at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with alcohol. A huge smile graced her face and she let out a small giggle. "TIGGY!! I'm good, just got a little dizzy." She replied, leaning a little closer to him, clearly tipsy.
Tig chuckled and instinctively tightened his arm around her. "Yeah, I can tell. You should slow down on the drinks, doll." He teased, looking down at her with a mixture of affection and mild concern.
"I'm fine, really. I can handle my boooze." She stated, trying to sound firm, but the slur in her voice gave her away. She stumbled again and Tig quickly caught her again, pulling her closer against him to keep her steady.
Tig rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, you're doing a real good job handling your booze right now.." he replied sarcastically. He let out a chuckle, his hand gently rubbing her back, soothingly.
She pouted and smacked his chest playfully. "Shut up, I'm not even that drunk." She retorted, her voice still a little slurred. "I had like, three beers and a shot then another one...Oh then Bobby made a toast so i had another few. I can handle that."
Tig raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Oh thats all, huh?" He teased, his tone laced with amusement. "Yeah, sweetheart, that sounds mighty reasonable for a lightweight like you."
She huffed in mock annoyance, but couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. "I am not a lightweight." She argued, but her unsteadiness and rosy cheeks said otherwise.Tig couldn't help but chuckle at her denial. He continued to hold her close, enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed against him. "Right, sure you're not. That's why you can barely stand up straight on your own."
"I can stand just fine, thank you very much!" She retorted, her drunken confidence taking over. She tried to step away from him to spin in a circle and prove her point, but she stumbles again, wobbling on her feet.
Tig quickly wrapped an arm around her again and pulled her back towards him. He chuckled, now finding her attempts to prove her point even more amusing. "Yeah, you're a regular ballerina on those feet, darlin'."
She went quiet too quiet. And has a weird look on her face
"Ah shit" Tig groans and quickly scooped her up with practiced ease, knowing what was about to happen. "Looks like it's a one-way ticket to the porcelain throne for you, sweetheart." He joked as he started to rush her towards the nearest bathroom.
Once they reached the bathroom, he gently set her down in front of the toilet just in time before she started to retch into it. He knelt down beside her, holding back her hair as she emptied her stomach. Tig winced in sympathy as he heard her getting sick.
"There you go, get it all out, doll." He comforted, rubbing her back soothingly. He was thankful that the bathroom was mostly empty, and he knew the guys would keep other people out.
Once she was done, she slumped against him, weak and shaky. Tig pulled her onto his lap, holding her close and letting her rest her head against his chest. He gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. "You're gonna be feeling like hell tomorrow, baby." He said with a playful hint of amusement. He knew she was in for a rough morning, but he was also secretly enjoying having her so dependent on him for awhile.
Hi! I was wondering if I can put in a request for a juice Ortiz one shot please. I was thinking of season 6 episode 12, but I would like for it to have a different twist then how it happened in the show(juice never ended up being a rat like most would think he was). Instead of juice un a living the mom, can you please have it where juice and the reader went through a tragedy of having a miscarriage. And no one in the club or Lyla knew about it because they wanted to surprise everyone of having a baby. But when juice goes to the brothel and when Lyla sees him she knew something must be wrong since Juice is usually always with the reader. So when Juice asks for someone nice she ends up calling the reader and when she gets there she finds Juice on the floor crying in the bathroom and they have a heart to heart moment.
Someone Nice
Pairing: Juice Ortiz x Reader
Summary: based on this request by @bonni-98. Thanks to the reader Juice doesn’t fall for Roosevelt’s blackmail attempts. Keeping him in the club all in. Things seem to be going perfect now. Until life throws a huge wrench into his relationship with (Name), causing him to wind up at Diosa not knowing what he’s planning on doing.
Trigger/Content Warning(s): angst, angst with a bittersweet ending, emotional hurt/comfort, miscarriage, blood, pain, descriptive language, self-deprecation, suicidal thoughts, this gets very dark, dead dove do not eat!
Word Count: 1274
A/N: okay…so, I kinda ran away with this fic…it got away from me and started to become a way of me mourning my loss of the ability to have children in general…and um…if this is too dark bonni-98, let me know and I’ll make a lighter follow up…I might do that anyway.
How had Juice found himself here? Standing in a room at Nero’s place. Waiting on whomever was going to come through that door. His hands shaking.
He shouldn’t be here…
—
After finally fixing the issue with Roosevelt, trusting his club brothers to have his back. Juice thought that everything was finally going his way.
He was assured of his place in SAMCRO.
He wasn’t being blackmailed anymore.
He knew a part of his history that he had always been curious about.
And he had an amazing Old Lady at home.
No, they weren’t married yet. His proposal had been delayed thanks to this whole issue with Roosevelt trying to get him to turn rat on his club. Pulling a similar stunt to what Stahl had done with Opie. (May he and Donna both rest in peace.)
But even better was the fact that he and (Name) had recently found out that she was pregnant. The were going to have a baby. He was going to have the family he had always dreamed of.
Everything was going perfectly.
And of course life couldn’t let that last for Juan Carlos Ortiz…
—
It was only two days ago that (Name), the woman that Juice loved more than anyone else in the world, woke up in agonizing pain. Blood staining the once pristine white sheets. Juice wasn’t even in Charming at the time. Handling club business, like was expected of him.
She had managed to get to the ER only to be told that the baby they had already been making plans for was gone. She was miscarrying their baby. She was sent home with some painkillers to lie on the bathroom floor and sob as she suffered through the miscarriage to its end. Passing their child like a blood clot.
The emotional devastation had been worse than anything else. And she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than cry herself to sleep on the bloody towels and cold tiles.
She’d called Juice the next day. Her voice numb as she told him she understood if he didn’t want to come home to her yet.
That was what broke Juice the most. The idea that she didn’t want him there to comfort her. Or to comfort him. To mourn together like they were supposed to.
So he hadn’t gone home.
No.
He stayed at the clubhouse. Claiming he was too tired to ride anymore after Church ended. A believable excuse.
Jax gave him the day off to spend with his girl. Not realizing that that was who Juice was avoiding. So instead of riding home. He found himself here.
At Diosa.
Having passed by Lila…who knew about he and (Name’s) relationship. Hell, everyone did.
She had come in to ask if he was looking for anyone in particular. Trying hard to act like she wasn’t curious or judging the young man that she never pegged as the type to cheat.
“Just…someone nice…” was all Juice said.
His eyes were red from crying and his broken voice was soft but rang clear. Lila just nodded and left the room after telling him he could change or clean up in the attached bathroom. Walking past all the girls to pull her phone out.
Calling the person she was certain that Juice really needed right now.
—
(Name) arrived in less time than even Lila expected. It was obvious that she had been crying as well.
“He’s in the last room,” Lila said, “Nobody else has seen him but me.”
The brokenhearted young woman nodded and swallowed thickly. She made her way to the room that Lila indicated before knocking and opening the door. Juice wasn’t there. But she could hear him crying from the bathroom.
Her heart broke. She walked into the bathroom to find him hugging his knees with shaking hands. His gun tossed to the side. Like he had been planning or hoping that Lila would make him wait for enough time that he would get the nerve up.
She dropped down beside him, her voice soft. “Juan, baby?” She murmured.
Juice looked up, “What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to sound angry, but he just sounded tired.
“Lila called me,” (Name) said, “Please tell me that you weren’t gonna…you weren’t gonna leave me too.”
She was trying to sound angry as well. He was at Diosa. The implications there were obvious.
“That’s what you wanted, for me not to come home, right?” Juice said.
“No!” (Name) exclaimed, “I want you home…I wanted you…I need you…but…”
“But what? You told me that you didn’t want me to come home,” Juice said.
“No…I said I would get it if you don’t want to come home! That is not the same thing Juan Carlos.” She argued back.
They may be arguing but it was both quiet and sad. They weren’t being loud. But they were both feeling intense.
“Why wouldn’t I want to come home?!” Juice asked.
“Juan…I…I lost our baby…my body failed us…I figured you wouldn’t want to look at me…I couldn’t even give you a child…” she finally broke down crying, “I bled our child out…there was no saving it…I…I couldn’t even be pregnant right!”
Realization dawned on Juice and he lurched forward to pull his Old Lady into his arms. Holding her tightly. He was such an idiot. He should have just gone home. Avoided all this.
“No, no, no, don’t do that, don’t…these things happen…it’s not your fault…it’s not, shh, shh, baby…please…” he pleaded softly, petting her hair.
“You were gonna leave me too…cause I lost our baby…” she sobbed.
“No…no I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I…I’m sorry…that’s why I tossed it aside…cause I couldn’t leave you…I need you…I was scared you hated me and…and I can’t live without you…I would rather die than live without you!” He said, sobs wracking his body as well.
She gripped his shirt tightly. “Don’t leave me! Please…I didn’t mean to lose our baby…” she whimpered.
“I know, I know…it wasn’t your fault…I won’t ever even think of using my gun like that again…” he promised.
They held each other and cried together for what felt like hours. They cried themselves dry before she sat beside him on the bathroom floor. Playing with his fingers. Unsure of how they were supposed to talk about this.
“The ER doctor didn’t know what caused the miscarriage. Said I should talk to my OB to figure it out, especially if we wanna try again.” She finally said.
“Have you scheduled the appointment, yet, in need to be sure I have the day off.” Juice murmured.
“It’s on Monday,” she said softly, “Are you sure you want to come?”
“Yes, I wasn’t here to hold you and comfort you while you suffered through that alone…I need to be with you now,” he said.
(Name) let out another choked sob, “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m sorry too,” Juice said.
Neither one of them made excuses for their actions. It was obvious they still understood each other on a level deeper than words. That was comforting.
“I guess it’s good we haven’t told anyone yet,” she gave a half hearted laugh.
Juice laughed lightly as well. Nodding.
Juice stood up first, helping (Name) to stand. He grabbed his gun and holstered it.
“Let’s go home,” he suggested, “I just want to hold you, and Diosa isn’t the place for that anymore.”
(Name) nodded, leaning up and pressed her lips to his. It was sad but the love was still there. They would handle this together. Like they should have in the first place.
It may be bittersweet. But at least they still had each other.
I was wondering if you could do something with a teen sister reader and happy or juice, platonically. Maybe it could be like a lockdown and they had to bring her and no one knew she existed until then.
If you don’t want to write this just ignore it.
hi anon! ofc i can, i love this request! I hope you enjoy and feel free to send some more requests❕
Mini Killa {H.L.}
Warnings: fluff, swearing, age isn’t stated but reader is around 17, horrible writing
sister reader x happy
“You have to come with me to the clubhouse.” Happy murmured grabbing Y/n’s bag and putting some of her things inside
“What? Why? I thought you didn’t want them to know about me.” Y/n replied watching him pick up her pink bunny giving it a funny look before putting it in the the backpack before zipping it up.
He turned to look at her before holding out the bag. “That’s not true.” he responded keeping his words short. “It was always safer for you this way, until now. Come on.” He finished not giving her any time to respond before he left her room and headed outside.
〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️
Y/n hopped off Happy’s bike taking off her helmet and handing it to him. She looked around seeing tons of cars and other bikes in the lot. Her nerves starting to strike.
Happy noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. before nudging her slightly so she started walking. When they walked inside all eyes immediately turned to them some small gasps being let out when they saw Happy with somebody.
“Brother.” A blonde man with longer hair smiled looking down at Y/n “who’s this?”
“I’m Y/n.” She replied giving the man a smile.
“Jax.” He looked between them
“Jax, this is my sister.” Happy finally spoke up shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Sister?” Jax questioned his jaw slightly dropping “Guys! Happy has a sister.” Jax practically shouted looking at the others.
Y/n started fiddling with her fingers at all the attention she was suddenly getting. Happy could tell she was getting nervous and decided to speak up. “Y/n why don’t we get you settled in my room yeah?” She just nodded eagerly at his words.
〰️〰️〰️〰️
The guys watched as something pissed Y/n off and she immediately snapped like Happy usually does.
“Damn, like brother like sister.” Juice snorted as she flipped off the person she was playing against in pool.
“Kinda hot.” Tig blurted the guys instantly giving him dirty looks.
Happy immediately turned in his seat giving Tig the nastiest look as he rolled the toothpick in his mouth. “Run.” He muttered.
Tigs eyes widened as he stood from his seat and started sprinting towards the door shouting apologies as Happy started chasing him, the guys dying of laughter as they all watched the scene unfold.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t kill him.” Y/n giggled walking over to the guys as she watched Tig scream like a little girl still running. “Last time he did that i had to help cover it up.” She joked.
Juice slowly backed away from her “Woah, Mini Killa.”
